


A Friend in You and Me

by anchoringsouls



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: I guess you could call this a drabble, M/M, Otabek the swanky DJ, Welcome to the Madness, but it all works out, in which Mila and Yuri don't make good decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anchoringsouls/pseuds/anchoringsouls
Summary: Yuri glances down at his duffle bag again, glaring at the laces that peek through the zipper. "You know, if you hate your exhibition piece that much you could always just change it.""Really now Mila?"She shrugs, a small smile on her face as she crosses her arms over her body. "Since when have you ever followed the rules in the first place?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I should be doing my political science homework but my senioritis kicked in so here we here //
> 
> I'm not a good writer or anything but I hope you get a small kick out of whatever this is

 

 

"This is a piece of shit."

 

Yuri can't help but groan as he unlaces his skates, frustrated with the idea of his free skate and exhibition piece. Nothing was doing him justice and he'd be damned if he let the engaged idiots show him one up him again. In retrospect, he really shouldn't be complaining. When it came to technicalities and whatnot, the program Lilia had put together for him was beyond beautiful. Had it been anyone else, they wouldn't have muttered out a single complaint. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have a world renowned ballerina as their choreographer therefore, Yuri shouldn't really be making a big deal out of this. 

But he is young, competitive, and frustrated. 

Lilia had nailed the concept of  _Agape_ , perfectly incorporating a mix of innocence and love into his every move. While it spoke volumes, it did nothing to project who Yuri _really_  was. After watching the pork cutlet bowl give his all into his life performance, Yuri couldn't help but feel irked. Everything about his free skate was so vulnerable and honest, eliciting raw emotion and painting a story of his career. Yuri wouldn't dare call it jealousy rather, he found appeal in the idea of projecting his real persona to the ice. Sure, ice skating was a big part of his life but it wasn't everything. He wasn't Victor who breathed it every living second, who depended on the ice to keep him alive _(though after meeting Yuuri, he can now see that there's a different reason for that now)._ Yuri loved skating; that was an undeniable fact. 

But it was tiring doing everything everyone wanted him to do.  _Agape_ was like a challenge for him and while it pushed him to reach for a new level, it wasn't exactly his favorite cup of tea either. Victor was a genius when it came to the ice ( a bit air headed when it came to real life but nonetheless still endearing). The program he designed opened new doors for Yuri, allowed him to touch base with a part of himself he didn't even recognize. Lilia had done the same. 

Yuri knows he should feel proud of what he's accomplished but his desire for perfection was overwhelming. If he could just skate the way he wanted, it would be a breath of fresh air, a tribute to himself for all he's managed to do so far. And this was just the beginning. 

"Oh, what's got you in a pissy mood?" Mila peeks from around the doorway, eyes wide with curiosity and lips twitching with amusement. 

"My exhibition piece," Yuri says honestly, zipping up the rest of his duffle bag. "What are you doing here by the way? Shouldn't you be doing interviews?" His eyes flicker to the gold medal around her neck. She smiles, "I could say the same about you."

He's proud-not completely satisfied-but still proud. 

"Anyways," she begins, stepping into the room and leaning back against the lockers. "Yakov sent me to come get you. Apparently Victor and Yuuri invited everyone to dinner so we're all heading out. You coming?" 

Yuri glances down at his duffle bag again, glaring at the laces that peek through the zipper. "You know, if you hate your exhibition piece that much you could always just change it."

"Ha, just change it! Really now, Mila?"

She shrugs, a small smile on her face as she crosses her arms over her body. "Since when have you ever followed the rules in the first place?"

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He decides to change it.

 

"You're serious, in one night?" Otabek shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips as he pushes the button on the elevator. 

"You think I'm crazy," Yuri proclaims, leaning back against the elevator wall, staring intently at his friend. 

"No," Otabek admits softly, sliding his hands into his leather jacket. "I think it's great that you want your exhibition piece to represent who identify yourself as. Not everyone is so daring to be that honest on the ice." 

"Except for Georgi," Yuri snorts. "Except for Georgi," the older man agrees, shaking his head again with disbelief. When the bell rings, the two step out into the crowded lobby. There's fans and paparazzi everywhere, reporters shoving amongst each other in effort to seek out the ice skaters. Yuri had refused the interviews, exhausted and annoyed at this point. He yearned for a normal-well, as normal as possible-evening with his competitors. 

"Otabek!" cried out a voice. Swiftly, the older man came to a stop, pulling down his sunglasses and twisting his body in the direction of the voice. Up came a man in about his early twenties, dark eyes and perfectly combed over hair. He was tall and lean, his tan skin almost appearing etherial with a healthy glow. The man's smile was obnoxiously huge as he hugged the other, obviously well aquatinted with his friend. Otabek smiles, greeting the man with just as much fever.

It was a bit of an odd sight to see. Sure, Yuri hadn't been friends with Otabek too long but within their shared time, things had fallen into place. His older friend seemed very reserved for the most part, quiet with personality but in no way shy in mannerisms. It left Yuri feeling curious, surprised by his new friend's reaction. 

"I heard you were out here for the Grand Prix, it's good to see you again," the man says genuinely. His eyes flicker down to Yuri, widening with delight when he recognizes him. "Ah! And you must be Yuri Plisetsky from Russia, yes? Congratulations on your win."

The man extends his hand out, politely waiting to be introduced. For a moment, Yuri can only stare at the hand, wondering just who the hell this person is. Catching on to his apparent confusion, Otabek places a hand on his shoulder, gesturing with the other to his new found friend. 

"Yuri, this is Alejandro Roca. He's a good friend of mine. He owns one of the most popular clubs here in Barcelona."

" _El Poblenou_ ," Alejandro offers, fingers griping around Yuri's thin hand. It's a firm hand shake, eyes lit with a dark intensity that leave Yuri feeling a bit uncomfortable. Quickly, Yuri pulls away, glaring at the odd man before him. "And I expect to see both of you there. You're still on for tonight right?" 

Before Otabek even answers, Alejandro's phone blares out with a loud ringtone. Apologizing, he bids a farewell, hurriedly rushing away and he quickly speaks into the phone, clearly switching back to his native language. Yuri turns to his friend for an explanation. "We're going to a club?"

The dark haired man shake his head. " _I'm_ going. You're having dinner with Victor and Yuuri." 

"Says who exactly?" 

"Yuri," his friend grimaces. "It's not exactly the safest place to be at night. Alejandro is more than just the owner the club, you shouldn't get involved in that."

"But you can? You're not my mother, I thought you of all people would've been okay with it."

"You're _fifteen._ They wouldn't let you in even if I tried."

" _Bullshit_ ," Yuri hisses out. Otabek had been one of the first people to actually treat him like an adult. Age meant nothing to Yuri. He had grown up differently than the kids his actual age so why was he being subjected to this nonsense? Sure, he knew that Otabek had his best intentions at heart but it was annoying to say in the least. His friend was barely on legal age so why did he get to run around and party?

Pursing his lips, he nods his head. "Fine, if that's how you want it then so be it. I'm out of here."

"Yuri wait-"

He shoves away through the crowd, pushing forward a not looking back.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

"You okay? Did JJ tease you about your height again?" 

Yuri throws himself onto the hotel bed, face plummeting into the white lavender scented pillow. "No," he muffles out. "And stop bringing that up." 

Mila stands from the small vanity and fixes the clasp on her bracelet. "Well, what's got you so peeved? I thought you were hanging out with Otabek."

Rolling over, Yuri spreads out like a starfish across the sheets, allowing his body to sink into the mattress. It's comforting in an odd way-almost as if the bed were designed just for him. He could stay like this forever. 

"Yuri?"

"I think Otabek is hiding something from me."

Mila stills, head cocking to the side with curiosity. "What makes you believe that?"

Yuri crosses his arms, brow scrunching together as he glares at the while ceiling. Slowly, he turns over to face the red headed ice skater, his blonde hair falling over his face. "He's going to a club Mila and he refused to take me. That's not like him." 

Mila snorts, "Mind you Yuri, you are underage. Stop acting like a petulant child just because your cool older friend was being responsible."

"He introduced me to a guy-the owner of the club. He said he was into some sketchy side business."

"Even more reason not to go!" she says incredulously, adjusting the slit on her dress. 

"You don't get it, Mila! Beka would've snuck me in if he could. You and me both know I can take care of myself, hell, I even traveled to a foreign country on my own looking for Victor!"

She frowns at his words, eyes falling to the floor in a thoughtful expression. "So what are you going to do about it then? I get that you care but Otabek can take care of himself." Slowly, Yuri sits up, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall limp into his lap. He hears Mila tentatively make her way over beside him, gently nudging him to make room.

"You're curious too, aren't you?" he prompts, gaze focused on his hands. "I know you like him, Mila." She doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at the vanity across the room as if it holds all the answers to their problems. 

"I'm sneaking into the club tonight."

"What about dinner?" Her voice is oddly calm, almost as if she had been anticipating this answer from the start. Yuri doesn't doubt it; Mila had always been quick to catch onto his shenanigans.  

"They'll get over it."

"Yakov? Lilia?" 

"Georgi can cover for me. He owes me for the last time he went sneaking out to see Anya."

"I'm coming with you." Yuri whips his head around, jaw dropping open with defiance. Before he can argue with her, she raises a finger, lips turning into a stern pout. 

"Lookie here Mr. Hardass I get that you don't need a babysitter. It's just, I don't feel comfortable letting you go. I trust you but that doesn't mean something bad can't happen to you." Her words are not gentle or sweet; they're an order, a fact. Yuri's known Mila long enough to know she means business, that he won't be leaving this hotel unless she comes with him. It hadn't been apart of his plans but at this point, he'll take what he can get.

"We leave in ten."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Sneaking out hadn't been as difficult as they thought it would be. Finding the club, well, that proved to be an even easier task at hand. 

 _El Poblenou,_ true to Beka's word, was one of the most popular places in the city. It had a strong reputation for celebrities sightings and it's location. Why Beka had chosen to associate himself with this place Yuri had no idea. What was even more interesting was the fact that it was a Rock club, famous for it's genre of music and modernized aesthetic.

"So what's the plan. How are we getting you in?" Mila whispers as they make their way to the entrance. Yuri shrugs, truthfully not believing he would have made it this far in the first place. "Walk to the front and hope for the best?" 

The security guard,  _Gerardo_ as his name tag informs them, stares down Yuri, setting his jaw into place with set determination.

 _"Identificación,_ " the husky man grunts out, taking a step towards Yuri. Quickly, Mila reaches into her clutch for her ID, movements frazzled by the intimidation. She yanks it out and flashes it towards the guard, a slight tremble in his fingertips. " _And the pipsqueak?"_

"Eh?! Who you calling a pipsqueak FATSO?!"

"Yuri!" Quickly, Mila yanks him back before he can lunge at the guy. He lets out a growl, throwing hands at the unimpressed security guard. 

" _Oye! Oye! ¿Que esta pasando_ _aquí?"_ In the best timing possible, Alejandro walks out from the club, a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in the other. "Ah! It's you, Yuri! I was wondering if you were going to show up. Please, Gerardo, step aside and let these beautiful guests in." With no hesitation, the man clears the pathway. Victorious, Yuri sticks his tongue out when he thinks Alejandro and Mila aren't looking.

Mila smacks the back of his head. 

Inside the sound of guitars and thundering drums echo into the hallway, the walls vibrating to life in all its midst. _It's energizing_ , Yuri thinks. He inhales the smoke that hazes in the air, absolutely mystified by the scene. There's people dancing everywhere, bodies and heads jumping with freelanced passion. 

"Otabek told me you weren't going to make it tonight." Alejandro doesn't face them, he simply continues to weave his way through the crowd over to a secluded area of the clubhouse. He gestures to the roped off area and leather booths that give them a perfect view of the both the DJ and dance floor. "But it appears you changed your mind...and brought a friend too."

"Mila Babicheva," the red head introduces herself as she slides into the seat. "Fellow figure skater." Across from them Alejandro gives a sad smile, leaning back and taking another drag from his cigarette. "Ah-I apologize Miss Babicheva, I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't follow women's figure skating. Perhaps you could show me sometime though?" 

Yuri feels the heel of Mila's shoe smack the side of his ankle, causing him to bite his lip in pain. "Where's Otabek?"

Alejandro puffs out the smoke again, a low chuckle escaping past his lips. He doesn't say anything, merely shifts his gaze over to dance floor. It doesn't take long for Yuri to catch sight of his dark haired friend. After all, he is the one conjuring up the musical notes that feed onto the dance floor.

"He's quite talented. Ice skater by day, DJ by night. Who would ever expect it, right?"

Otabek throws his head back, body thrumming along to the heavy metal escaping the speakers. Yuri can't keep his eyes off him; he's absoulelty mesmerized by the sight before him. It feels so hypersentizie-the sweat glistening down his neck, the way he's bitting his lip, the flutter of his lashes. It comes to Yuri in flashes. There's skates shredding up the ice below his feet, hands thrown up in the air and chest puffed forward. For a moment, Yuri can't help but wonder if this is what Victor felt when he watched the pork cutlet skate.

"Yeah," Yuri breathes out gently. "Who would've known." He feels Mila's hand settle onto his shoulder, turning him towards her. There's a small smile on her lips but her eyes betray her.

"Do you want to dance?" At a loss of words, Yuri just nods his head.

They find their way onto the club floor, bodies easily synching to the rock music. It's inevitable that Otabek will find out about this later, that his friend will be pissed at him for going against his word. Yuri doesn't really care. He lets himself smile, laugh like a crazy person into night. 

He's found just what he needed for his new program.

 

 

 

* * *

 

They all do the walk of shame back to the hotel.

Granted, it could have been a hell of a lot worse than it was at the moment. Thankfully, Alejandro wasn't too upset to find that Yuri was underage. He handled the situation with great nonchalance. With a small lecture and chuckle, the owner had sent the three of them on their way home.

It wasn't that late, only about two in the morning or so. Despite the time, the city was still lively as ever. Otabek hadn't really said anything. The older man walked with his fists shoved into his leather jacket, face expressionless.

Mila quietly talked into her phone, Russian words thick as she assured Georgi that they were on their way back. Thankfully, Yakov and Lilia hadn't noticed their disappearance. At least that would be two less people who were angry with him. 

"Mila," Otabek began when they reached the lobby. "Do you mind if I speak to Yuri?" Lips parted with surprise, the red headed woman slowly nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm just going to run to the ladies room and then I'm heading up." She looked over to Yuri. "Text me when you get to your room." With that, she was gone. 

"Otabek I can explain-"

"Don't Yuri." He glared down at the floor, jaw firmly set into place with resolution. "Do you even realize how  _dangerous_ that was?"

"Mila was with me."

He shakes his head, frustrated. "That's not the point."

"Then what is? The fact you didn't tell me you're a DJ, and a hell of good one from what I saw?" Otabek sighs, his tense shoulders resting into a relaxed stance. Yuri continues before his friend can reprimand him anymore. "Beka, I know what I want to do for my exhibition program. I know you're mad and I promise I won't ever go behind your back again but I need your help if I want this to happen. What I saw tonight, that was everything I could possibly  _dream_ of. I can't make this a reality without you though." 

Yuri won't apologize for what he did tonight because truthfully he didn't regret any of it. This was the closest he would give Otabek when it came to apologizing so secretly, he hoped it was enough-that he would understand.

"We're going to talk about this later," the dark haired man says as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. His face softens up. "What did you have in mind?"

Yuri smiles. "You played this one song..."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mila walks out into the lobby, heading towards the elevator when she hears her name being called out. 

Behind her waits Otabek, face worn with must be exhaustion as he makes his way over to her. He presses for the elevator, gesturing inside when it opens. Before she can even tell him her floor, he's alreading pressing the number. Curious and surprised, she doesn't question it. 

"You let Yuri go out to a club." It's not a question rather, he's stating what happened tonight. Guilty, Mila hangs her head. 

"You know him; he wouldn't have listened if I told him to stay. It was better that I tagged along, you know? At least this way I could watch over him." Mila had never been one to cower up. Growing up, she was a confident and strong willed person, always rising to the challenge. But in this moment, and despite her small crush on her fellow figure skater, the red headed woman couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated.

There's silence for a while as the cart moves up along the levels. Finding her voice, she braves to speak again. "He's never really had a true friend before. I suppose he sees me more as a older sister but you...he looks up to you." Never had she been one to struggle with words. Nonetheless, she fights through it, pushing herself to do it for Yuri. "I guess what I'm trying to say is don't be too mad at him. He's never done this before."

"Me either."

"What?" Mila looks up, finding that she's shoulder to shoulder with Otabek. How odd, she had always through she was taller than him. Up this close, Mila can see the small scar along the bottom of his jaw, the long casting shadow his lashes leave, the plush of his lips. 

He clears his throat, staring forward. "I've never done this before. Had a friend like Yuri."

Warmth explodes over her chest and she doesn't even catch herself smiling. The elevator jolts to a stop, snapping her back to reality. The doors open to her floor; she's reluctant to leave.  

Stepping out, Mila allows herself to look over one last time. "Be good to him," she says gently. It's as the doors come to the a close that she catches his smile, light and easy.

"I will." 

**Author's Note:**

> It was really difficult explaining to my mom why I was listening to heavy metal while I wrote this.


End file.
